They kept the prisoners in stone cells beneath the Mizukage's residence. Kisame was somewhat surprised when he got the summons with the official seal. It was rare even for a jounin to be called directly to the dungeon and not into the office first.
"You've done good work, Kisame-san. The village is repaying you. The Mizukage wants to express his gratitude." The man was called Kôei, a skinny, pimply guard with narrow shoulders and eyes that looked like notches carved into wood. He had led Kisame into the depths, forging ahead with his torch held high and the self-important gait of farmer showing off prize stock. He was the kind of man who made Kisame's sword hand twitch.
Kisame didn't ask Why me? It wasn't his style to ask too many questions. He followed the guard without speaking. The sound of his footsteps echoing in the darkness said enough. Only a fool would always try to fill the silence. A fool like Kôei.
"It's a great batch and you got first pick! You don't know how lucky you are! I could hardly believe it when I saw them this morning. Guess what, we've got a Byakugan user, a female to boot! Now what do you say to that?" He glanced over his shoulder, probably hoping to see surprise or a flash of desire cross Kisame's face.
Kisame, however, stared right back at the guard, his expression as impassive as ever. Only the corner of his mouth quirked in amusement. A female Byakugan user? He could think of a number of old fucks who'd be at each other's throats over her, but what did he care?
"They were just sealed a few hours ago, so they're still unconscious…" Sheepishness had crept into Kôei's voice. The lack of replies from Kisame was obviously starting to gnaw at his confidence. He cleared his throat, squared his shoulders and walked on.
Kisame followed him down the hallway and around a corner. They stopped in front of a row of iron-barred cells.
"Why not take a closer look?" Kôei approached the iron bars, illuminating the darkness beyond them with his flickering torchlight. "So? What do you think?"
A girl lay on the stones, her long hair like a black halo around her head. She had fine features, a small nose and full lips that looked beautiful despite their bloodless paleness. Kisame glanced at her torn blue uniform, standard Konoha shinobi attire. If word of her capture got back to her home village, it would mean war. But that would never happen. For all Konoha knew, this girl was already dead and gone.
Without looking at the guard's rodent face Kisame told Kôei to show him the other prisoners. They moved to the next cell. Kids, practically piled on top of each other, in mud-splattered civilian clothing. Pathetic, Kisame thought, and this is what I'm supposed to be fighting for?
"They're still very easy to… mold at that age, if you get my drift," Kôei said. Kisame tuned him out.
How long had this been going on? Kisame couldn't remember a beginning. Just like he couldn't remember his parents.
Kirigakure. The village Hidden in the Mist. Hidden in the Bloody Mist. He chuckled when he heard that moniker. Ah, yes. The exam. He'd passed with flying colors, of course.
But this kind of tradition wasn't easy to uphold. You needed children, you needed people. You needed fodder.
In Kirigakure only a small percentage of students made it out of academy alive. And even if they did, shinobi had short life spans. The birthrate was low.
That was why the shinobi of Kirigakure had developed a system.
Genjutsu specialists captured shinobi and civilians from other villages, brought them back to Kirigakure where they were branded with a chakra seal and finally awarded to certain shinobi by the Mizukage.
Kisame hadn't thought he'd qualify. He was only twenty-two years old; he had no plans to settle down and no need for a useless plaything.
Kôei walked the length of the hallway, shining his light into every cell. Kisame glanced absently at the bodies behind the thick iron bars. He didn't care. He knew too many men who were fulfilling their duties only in the hopes of getting this chance, so they could get their hands on a personal slave. Some of them wanted women, others desired young boys or little girls. They were perverts, too weak and pathetic or too twisted to find lovers among their peers.
For Kisame there wasn't a single one among those unconscious weaklings who was worth his attention. They had already been defeated and captured, after all. In his opinion that meant there was no reason to let them live.
"So, which one?" Kôei turned his back on the cells and leaned against the iron bars of the one directly behind him. His cheerful attitude had faded; he was looking at Kisame now, expectation with a hint of impatience etched into his forced smile. "The Byakugan girl, right? Think about the children she'll give you. Not to mention the fun…"
Kisame chuckled. Pathetic. Why would he care about that? Why did the Mizukage think he had to buy Kisame's loyalty with something this ridiculous? He was about to say that he didn't care, he'd let Kôei choose whoever he wanted as long as it wasn't one of the brats. He'd take his prize home and see if they were good for one last fight.
But then a sudden movement caught his eye. He thought it was a rat at first, something skittering across the floor, except that it didn't skitter. It snaked out between the iron bars, wrapped itself around Kôei's ankle and pulled. A hand. The flickering light revealed broken nails and fingers crusted with dirt.
"What the—" The guard jumped, kicking to dislodge the prisoner's grip. "How the fuck is he awake?!"
"Let me… out and… fight me like men, you cowards!" A man's voice, interrupted by heavy breathing and the sound of something dragging itself across the stones.
"Oh?" Kisame felt his spirits lift. He grinned at the cursing guard. "I'll take him," he said.